"I'll do it." Cathy types a command, and the screen floods with text. "I added another notch to the armor straps."
"Oh ho." Casey teases. "16-inch biceps not enough?"
Cathy hums in agreement as she tabs through the information.
"Did some measuring this morning. Need to add a couple inches to my biceps, three to the thighs, and four to the chest. And I've got to drop the waist back down from 30" to 28". Reshaping the chest plate took a way longer than expected and I don't have the bandwidth to make a new belt before the convention. It's just barely too short now."
She lists off the changes so nonchalant.
"That adds what? Another 10 pounds?" Autumn asks.
Cathy finishes her inputs and checks the estimated final measurements. "16.2 pounds, apparently. Should bring me up to 208.4."
Cathy sets the laptop on the couch and takes her place on the platform. The harsh white glow of the projectors casts deep shadows around the contours of her figure.
"I'll help her set up. Autumn, you got the computer?" Deidre jumps into action.
"Of course." Autumn replies.
Deidre picks up a handful of wire leads and narrates the process. "Due to the use of electrodes that must adhere directly to the skin, this process works best at least partially undressed."
Cathy grips her undershirt with strong hands, and peels it up and over her head. However muscular she looked through the shirt, the body underneath is far more phenomenal than he could have ever expected. Huge, thick muscles bunch and thicken as she wrestles the shirt over her sizeable traps. She's not shredded, but strong. A powerlifter at full strength the week before a meet, instead of a bodybuilder stepping on stage without a drop of water in their system. A white sports bra keeps a slight degree of modesty, providing adequate coverage across thick pec muscles rather than support for Cathy's A-cup breasts.
"Can I keep these on, or should I lose them too?" Cathy gestures to the tight leggings.
"Go for it, girl." Autumn responds. "You already stretched them so much they don't fit me."
"Don't fit you yet." Casey teases.
"I'm happy with the ass I've got, for now." Autumn replies. "Otherwise I would also have to retool my costume."
"We use electrodes, just like an ultrasound, to transmit some of the signals and energy into the body." Deidre sticks one on each bicep, another to a blocky abdominal, and a fourth in the center of Cathy's back. "Then that's paired with the light input from the projectors and sound waves from the headphones."
Autumn checks over every cable, making sure each one is properly seated. Cathy slips the bulky over-ear headphones on while Deidre clips leads to each electrode. The girls are professional, moving through the checklist with care and attention. Double-checking each step.
Cathy gives Autumn a thumbs up, then grips the handles in front of her. Deidre gives a sign of her own, and Autumn nods.
"Here we go. Program starts in 10 seconds." Autumn taps enter.
Cathy's knuckles tighten white with anticipation as the seconds tick by. Deidre stands next to the surge protector, ready to shut the machine down at moment's notice.
"Neither of you have epilepsy, right?" Autumn asks a second too late.
And then the show starts.
The projectors flash black for a split-second, then technicolor. Four overlapping grids of every color bathe Cathy in a strobing cacophony of light. Every muscle in her body tenses, and a low hum is just barely audible from the headphones. LEDs all over the machine flash green, amber, and white. The lights grow brighter, and the hum grows louder.
Cathy gasps desperately for air, sucker punched by an invisible force.
"F-fuck." She grits out. "E-every time."
"You got it." Deidre's voice is steady, level. "Hang in there."
The words are for herself, more than Cathy. The big girl is in her own world. Sweat beads in rivulets, dripping down her nose and splashing to the platform below. Huge breathes come in desperate pants as every muscle in her body tenses and releases in chaotic patterns. And under all the other noise there is a quiet creak, a low groan that slowly builds in volume. The intensity grows with every second. Cathy's eyes go unfocused, then screw shut.
"One minute." Autumn calls. "Two to go."
And the first wave hits. The quiet groan from before booms through the room with a low rumble. Every muscle in Cathy's body pumps full, juiced up and stretched to the maximum. 16-inch biceps squeeze tight, pushed to their breaking point by an unseen force. The intensity subsides momentarily, and the sound of needy gasps fill the room. But every bit of the pump stays. A second wave crashes down, even greater than before. Every muscle in her body drives larger, thicker, fuller.
She's growing. He can see Cathy growing.
Each wave hits greater than the last. A desperate cry slips free as the third wave pumps pound after pound of pulsating muscle into Cathy's lats. Her thighs quiver and shake, and the leggings streeeetch under the strain. Every bit of this process is savage, a test of the will. Meaty forearms quiver under the strain of exhaustion and stimulation, pumping and swelling with each passing second.
"Two minutes," Autumn says.
The growth accelerates and intensifies. Deep grunts punctuate each new wave of growth. Shuddering and shaking, Cathy rides the wave like her life depends on it. Biceps juiced to their breaking point swell impossibly fuller, closing in on a Herculean 18" of jacked muscle. The leggings creak and strain as her thighs are forced thicker and thicker with each passing second. Fat veins pump thick and full to feed the growth.
"10 seconds." Amber calls. "Home stretch."
The last wave outdoes all the previous combined. With one final, desperate moan, a tidal wave slams into Cathy's body. All the gains of the past two minutes double in seconds. Her biceps blast an full, impossible inch thicker. Pecs press forward and back muscles widen like wings. Her thighs cross the threshold into tree trunks. Pound after pound of beefy strength jacks her muscles beyond their breaking point, until her whole body is writhing in the moment.
Then the lights go out, and the soft white glow is back.
"System safe." Deidre calls.
"Program shut down." Autumn responds.
Cathy pants shudder-y breaths, head down between her hands, until Deidre puts a concerned hand on her shoulder.
"I'm good." She slips the words out between deep breaths. "Just haven't added that much mass in one go before."
"I told you it's a bad idea to do more than 5 pounds at a time." Deidre replies.
"You did it."
"And I couldn't walk for the next twelve hours."
"This isn't that bad. Here, look." Cathy pushes herself up to standing, and turns to face the room. Under the down-lighting of the projectors, her new figure is massive. In three minutes, the geeky comp sci major had blown up from 'college powerlifter' to 'world's strongest woman'. She flexes a bicep across her chest, and stares. Then repeats the process with every muscle in her body, one by one.
"The leggings held." Autumn jokes as Cathy inspects her thighs.
"I'm not convinced my feet are getting blood flow."
~
An hour later, Cathy and Dennis are alone in the apartment.
Gina dashed off to class, on a mad sprint to the far side of campus. Autumn was over with Yvonne, helping her sister finish a 'bomb-ass sorcerer outfit'. Deidre had debate club, and Casey had a date with a toolbox and the alternator on her old Ford truck.
And that just left Cathy and Dennis, sprawled out on the couch, talking about everything and nothing at all. The big blonde's freshly-showered hair drapes over the back cushion, sweaty clothes buried at the bottom of the laundry hamper for later, dressed in a loose tank top and shorts.
"So, what do you think?" Cathy asks.
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